


It Ebbs and Flows

by redeyedwrath



Series: Sterek Tumblr Ficlets [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Jock Derek, M/M, Nerd Stiles, Pining, Pining Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: "New kid is called Stiles, apparently, and Derek tries his best not to shape his mouth around the sound, not to write it down in his head and repeat it over and over again."In which, Stiles is new in Beacon Hills and Derek's in love with him





	It Ebbs and Flows

**Author's Note:**

> Woah another drabble focused on pining!!!!! Zero (0) people are surprised by this. Enjoy this pretentious thing that I wrote ^^

_It ebbs and flow_  
_And comes and goes_  
_And rips you up_  
_And lets you go_

**\- The Storm Before the Calm, Anathema**

—

There’s a new kid in Derek’ class.

There’s a new kid in his class and everyone’s talking about him because there are no new kids in Beacon Hills. Derek doesn’t get what’s so interesting about him. He doesn’t even say anything; always quiet, always reading. Derek hasn’t even seen him smile.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until the new kid looks up, eyebrows raised and the corner of his lips turned up. Derek swallows and looks away, twiddles with his thumbs, and pretends his heart isn’t pounding.

New kid’s eyes are brown, and he has moles spattered on his face and his arms and his fingers are long and slim and he has an upturned nose, and he makes Derek’s heart beat faster just by looking at him.

And that’s when Derek knows he’s fucked.

—

New kid is called Stiles, apparently, and Derek tries his best not to shape his mouth around the sound, not to write it down in his head and repeat it over and over again. He doesn’t know why he’s doing that, not until he glances at Stiles and already sees him watching back.

“Stiles, right?” he asks, clenching his fingers around the straps of his backpack. Stiles doesn’t even look up, just nods, and Derek would say something only there’s a part of him that wants Stiles to like him. “What are you reading?”

Stiles tilts the book up so Derek can read the title — _The Art of Photography_ — and then goes back to reading. Derek has the urge to sit down next to him and say something stupid like ‘ _I’d like to know you_ ’.

“Is — is it any good?”

Stiles shrugs before he turns his gaze back to the book. “I guess.”

“Oh.” Derek scratches the book of his neck and tries to smile at Laura when she waves at him. “Well, have fun.”

—

“Hey bro,” Laura says, smiling as she slings an arm over his shoulders. “Why were you talking to him?”

Derek shrugs. “I don't know. He seemed like fun.”

Laura looks at Stiles over her shoulder, then back at Derek, her eyebrows raised. “Der, he’s _reading_.”

Something about this statement gets under Derek’s skin. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t like to read, and he doesn’t know Stiles, so why does he want to do something to Laura for saying that?

“So?” he asks, pushing her arm off. He’s probably being unreasonable, but Laura will have to deal.

“ _So_ , you don’t like reading.”

Derek huffs and walks away. He might not like reading but… but he likes Stiles.

—

It’s three in the morning and Derek’s still awake. It’s dumb, it’s ill-advised, because he has to wake up in less than three hours, but he can’t help it. He wants to sleep, but he _can’t_. It’s because his heart is beating out of his chest and his breathing is coming fast, and he’s not even doing anything, really, just thinking.

Thinking of Stiles; his little smiles, his long fingers, his bright eyes. Derek doesn’t even know anything about him — just knows he likes to read, likes photography, and keeps to himself — but he _wants to_. He wants to get to know Stiles so bad, wants to hug him, to touch him — just a brush of their fingers would be enough — to just be in his presence.

He turns around, the sheet slipping off his leg, but he can’t bring himself to pull it back up. It’s adrenaline, he knows. Adrenaline from thinking about asking Stiles out, from thinking about what they could do together. There are infinite ways in which they can go wrong and Derek finds his heartbeat quickening from the thought, his palms itching with a sharp desperation. He wants it so badly he can hardly breathe.

—

_Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles —_

—

Derek can’t stop staring. He knows it’s creepy, but he can’t stop. Laura’s been shooting him looks that are a mix between concerned and confused. He doesn’t blame her; there isn’t anything remarkable about Stiles. He’s quiet and nerdy and he keeps to himself, whereas Derek plays basketball and is loud and knows a lot of people. They couldn’t be more different.

But Stiles is… he’s _pretty_.

He’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and Derek wants to figure him out. Stiles, of course, has noticed, because Derek has not been subtle. He’s been spotting Stiles from across the canteen, from across the hallway, has been able to identify him just by the tuft of his hair and the curve of his smile.

He always sits alone, nose buried in a book, and Derek wants to know him. Sometimes Stiles glances up, smiling softly when he catches Derek staring, steadily growing into a smirk when Derek’s cheeks flush a bright pink.

—

It’s raining. It’s raining like it hasn’t rained in a long time. Derek had to walk to school today, and he doesn’t have an umbrella.

Stiles is standing there, backpack slung over his left shoulder, fingers tangled in his frayed sleeves. His face is tilted upwards, drops of water running down his face, and Derek traces the path with his eyes — god, how he wishes he could touch those, trail down Stiles’ skin with thim. Stiles looks cold and wet and miserable and he’s the best thing Derek’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Derek asks. Stiles startles slightly but doesn’t look at him, just swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It’s silent then, apart from their breathing and the sound of rain falling, and Derek shifts his weight in an attempt to feel less awkward.

Stiles’ mouth quirks up before he answers, “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting.” Stiles opens his mouth, catching the raindrops before they can melt away. It’s strange — Derek should be cold, he _is_ cold, but he’s never felt warmer.

“What for?”

That has Stiles’ attention, his eyes snapping to meet Derek’s. They’re dark and big, the lashes clumped together with raindrops. Derek wants to kiss him.

“Don’t know.” Stiles shrugs, shoulders broad under his soaked jacket. Derek’s hands ache with the urge to touch.

“Oh,” Derek says, dumbfounded. That’s. He doesn’t know what to say. So instead, he asks, stupidly, hands clenching around the straps of his backpack from nerves, “Want to come home with me?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. Derek swallows. “Yeah, sure.”

—

Derek is soaked to the skin, and his chest is heaving. They’re standing so fucking close together. He’s never wanted to kiss someone more.

“Do you—” he starts, voice huskier than he intended it to be. “I don’t—”

Stiles’ exhale is shaky and it seems to echo around them, echo inside Derek’s head, and then Stiles nods imperceptibly and the tension between them snaps.

Stiles’ lips are so warm, pressing into Derek’s own softly, assertively. The puffs of Stiles’ breath hit the tip of Derek’s nose, and then Stiles is pulling him closer, fingers at the back of Derek’s neck. It’s so easy, kissing Stiles, like there isn’t anything he should worry about, anything else he could ever do.

It’s everything he wanted it to be but nothing like he’d imagined. Stiles is quiet against him, one hand on his waist and one in his hair. He makes a soft sound when Derek bites down on is lip and then it gets hotter, wetter, Stiles pressed so close against him and Derek doesn’t think he ever wants to stop.

—

“You sure?” Stiles asks, eyes half-lidded and so fucking brilliant, but there’s apprehension there too, a hurt that makes Derek’s heart clench. “I just always assumed jocks don’t hang out with losers.”

Derek moves closer at that, until their foreheads touch, until their knees knock together, his fingers brushing over Stiles’ palm. Derek shivers as Stiles’ warm breaths tickle across the skin of his neck, closing his eyes as he wonders if Stiles can feel the way he’s shaking right now — he’s so close, _they’re_ so close — their chests pressed together, hands drifting against each other. Derek moves the slightest bit and his nose brushes against Stiles’ cheek.

“I’m not a jock,” Derek whispers, heart pounding away in his chest as he worms his fingers between Stiles’. “And you’re not a loser.”

He leans down and Stiles meets him halfway, eyes sliding closed, and for a moment they’re just there before they move. Stiles’ lips slide softly against his own, once, twice, again and again until Derek can feel himself falling.

It feels like something Derek isn’t sure of, but something he _wants_ ; Stiles’ pulse drumming against the palm of his hand, Derek’s blood rushing through him in a chorus of _yes yes yes_. He clenches his hand against the bedspread. Stiles is warm and solid under him.

“Okay,” Stiles says when he leans back. “Okay, let’s try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp that was a thing I wrote! Hope you liked it ^^ Beta'd by [Fen](http://vanillawg.tumblr.com) who's okay I guess.
> 
> [Hello I have a Tumblr where I scream about boys because I'm gay](http://nerdderek.tumblr.com)


End file.
